Your mother’s warning still echoed in your mind: "Don’t stray from the path. The wolf lurks in the woods."

The basket in your hand felt heavy, though it was only filled with a loaf of bread, some jam, and a small jar of honey for your sick grandmother. You had promised to bring it to her, and as you walked deeper into the woods, the smell of pine and earth filled your senses. It was peaceful here, yes, but something about the silence felt... too quiet.

You adjusted your red coat around your shoulders, the familiar fabric offering a small comfort against the chill of the evening air. The path ahead wound through the thickening trees, and as you took each step, the weight of your mother’s warning seemed to grow heavier on your shoulders. The wolf. The creature that haunted every dark corner of the forest, or so they said.

Then, out of nowhere, a rustle.

Before you could react, he stepped into view.

The man—no, the wolf—towered over you. He was tall, impossibly so, with broad, imposing shoulders and a presence that seemed to fill the space around him. His face was rugged, sharp angles and a jaw that looked as if it had been chiseled from stone. His hair was wild, messy strands of blonde that fell across his forehead, framing his piercing gaze.

But it wasn’t just his gaze that held you captive; it was the strange, intimidating cloak he wore. Dark, thick fur draped over his broad shoulders, with the head of a wolf sitting just above his own, its glassy eyes fixed on you as if it were alive. His whole appearance was enough to send a shiver down your spine. The creature who had haunted your dreams—right in front of you.

“Where are you off to, Fräulein?” His voice was low, rough—an edge to it that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Don’t you know there is a wolf lurking these woods?”